Viewpoint
by Kristina Marie
Summary: Written because I crashed while skiing, and have had to spend much time rereading Voltron Fan fics. Then this popped in my head. A different viewpoint of how things could have gone.
1. Chapter 1

Thanks to WEP for letting me play in their world.

Note: Updated chapter to correct a couple of errors.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

Viewpoint

 _4 months after the team arrived on Arus_

I stop in the open doorway as I hear Keith speaking.

"Look, I have one of my pilots flying with a concussion, two with breaks or sprains, and no resources to train anyone on planet. Unless you want to see this mission fail and the technology fall into Zarkon's hands we need help, yesterday. I do not know how many more times we can state this, but at the rate of deterioration, this planet will fall in the next six months at my most optimistic estimates. Admiral Graham, I am begging you for help."

I hear his voice fall silent and listen to his pained breathing. He forgot to mention to the Admiral he had broken four ribs, one of which punctured a lung. With our medical technology not long out of the stone ages, our medical staff, such as it is, can only do the most primitive of fixes and hope that Doom gives us a long enough break for the pilots to partial heal before their bodies take the next beating. It does not help that the boys strive to shield me from the worst of the damage. With the destruction of the hospital on planet Ebb, the permanent loss of Sven, the team lost cohesion. I have only the most basic of skills in flying, although Keith has me training in a simulator cobbled together by Hunk and Darrel. The force has suspended most of the live training to try and heal and give me as much theoretical and practical training as they can shove down my throat as quickly as possible. Right now, they keep me out of the dog fighting and only have me launch Blue to form Voltron. For good reason. They cannot afford to have a rookie in the skies to protect when they already fly injured.

A few of my people have started emerging from the caves as the Force gives us breathing room from Doom and Zarkon, but many stay, huddled in fear. Too many deaths. Too much destruction. We have sent word out for any people with technical skills to help repairing, rebuilding, anything to help fight against Zarkon. Farmers to grow food. Basic skills of cooking without modern conveniences. I thank She and He Above for reenactors. They are the only reasons we have staples like bread. They knew how to harvest and cook without machines or technology. Surprisingly, they started making an alcoholic beverage first. For the yeast they explained. The force says it reminds them of a 'Stout' from Earth. Rich in calories and minerals. If it makes my people feel a bit better and sleep better, all the better.

"Stop hovering, Princess. I can hear your brow furrowing from here."

His voice sounds pained. I know he does not sleep well right now. Our pilots do not like to use the narcotic pain medications that would let them sleep, and without sleep they do not heal well. We put the call out to the wise women and men of the planet and those with knowledge in herbology, but communications take weeks and months. How much we had taken for granted. Hunk has started teaching people to make communication devices out of scavenged parts, but we need an infusion of technology and people with knowledge or my planet may never recover.

"Allura!"

Starting, I walk around the corner. Keith looks terrible; pale, with his eyes closed, and pain lines radiating around his mouth and eyes. He holds one arm over his ribs and breathes shallowly through his nose.

"Do you think they will send help, this time?"

He grunts without opening an eye. I wait patiently, because I know he waits to gather breath to speak.

"I pray they do. Zarkon has held off for a week this time, but we need more time to heal and find help. I can only assume something has distracted his forces, so he will have to redirect from elsewhere to continue to harry Arus. I can only hope he has to call in from the far side of the galaxy. It will take the message at least a month to reach Garrison through the relay stations, and even if they launch help the same day the message arrives, it still takes three months transit time to arrive from Earth. In fact. . ."

I listen as he tells me the information I already know. I watch as his arm tightens around his chest as he distracts himself by reciting facts. Fighting back tears I hope do not show in my voice, I feel the need to interrupt.

"Keith. Did you eat today?"

He pauses. "Maybe?"

It breaks my heart to hear. My people have worked hard to provide food for our most important defenders. They cannot heal without enough calories, cannot fight. I know that some of my people have gone hungry to make sure to provide what our defenders need and doing their best to never let them know. Keith knows. He watches.

"If I bring you a Little Beer and bread, will you eat?"

"I can try." He says the words so slowly. When your every breath hurts, eating becomes secondary.

"Will you try and sleep while I fetch a tray?"

"Do I have to move?"

I have to smile. He has not opened his eyes once during our conversation, which just shows me how much he truly hurts, but he still tries to make light. Lance taught him that, I think. Something about positive ions bouncing around the negative pain ions and obliterating them like a video game. I did not understand the explanation, but the boys try to project positivity.

"Can I lower your chair, then?"

He grunts at me, and I walk over and carefully lean the chair backwards. His breath hisses out on a low note, his nostrils flare and teeth clench at the change in position.

"Maybe tonight, you take one of the pills. You need sleep. Your eyes look like you went three rounds with a Huffer and lost."

One side of his mouth crooks upward as his breathing slows. He does not immediately dismiss the idea, which gives me an idea of just how much he hurts right now. The hand not across his ribs reaches up to pat mine where it lays on the chair near his shoulder.

"Maybe you are right."

"Maybe I am." I pat his hand right back and grab one of the blankets we leave around the castle for when power fails and put it over him. He grunts his thanks, body already relaxing into sleep. I let my fingers drift over his cheek and press a kiss to his forehead.

Walking out into the corridor, I close the door behind me quietly. Beckoning one of the pages, I start to give him instructions regarding not just Keith but the other three pilots. I will go check on them myself, but if Keith is passing out sitting up from exhaustion, pain, and mostly likely hunger, the other three probably need some cossetting as well. These four men stand between us and the obliteration of my planet and my people. My people know this, and we will work to give them everything we have. I know there will never come a day we do not remember how five men fought for and took the chance to save a people and a planet. But that is a tale for another time. Right now, I have a handsome pilot to cosset.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

Over the last few days, since I have had to sit because I injured my knee, I have gone through and reread any number of Voltron stories. Then I watched a couple of the episodes, like the Summit meeting, Give me your Princess, and something else. Readers have often asked "Why do you have it in for Keith?"

I have come to the realization that I only follow the original story. How many times did Lotor slash or stab him? Throw him down a cliff? Or other injuries, mostly protecting the Princess. Thus it must have sunk into my psyche that Keith takes the brunt of the attacks, mostly because he stands out in front.

This time, I had a slightly different take. Putting myself in the position of a person on a planet which went from a center of technology and learning, to the stone age in a matter of months or years. Then after somewhere between five and ten years later, finally a ship comes. But only five people. Enough to restart the resistance. Enough to bring hope. But it would take time for that to overcome the fear. I would do anything to help.

Thoughts? Comments? Do you want to hear more? Normally I do not tell first person stories or stories more or less in the present tense, so this proves interesting.

Oh, all mistakes are mine as I did not have a Beta.


	2. Chapter 2

A short stage-setting chapter.

Reviews I find as great motivators! Hint. Hint.

Bellantara, Mertz the journey continues. Thanks for the encouragement

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

"Admiral Graham, by now you have received, and hopefully seen Captain Kogane's latest report. Once again, I send this addendum to you to add my pleas to his. He did not relay to you, but he flies also injured, with broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. We do not have the luxury of a hospital, or any modern medicine, to help with recovery. Most of our medical personnel died in the initial attacks as Zarkon targeted our hospitals. Zarkon hunted down the ones that survived, because a healthy populace can resist. He waged psychological warfare as well a physical warfare. But you know this Admiral, I have shared it before.

The situation grows evermore dire. We have no power grid, no reliable running water, or sanitation. The few people who have emerged from hiding do their best to help, but too few come. Our reenactors have done their best, but you cannot fight modern machinery with crossbows and spears. Oh, they manage to take out some of the patrols because arrows fly silently, and a properly trained, in your lexicon, longbowman, can send a shaft at 300 yards, but it takes multiple shafts to take down one of the robot fighters. Except when we can tip them with explosives, but we lack materials to make many. Heavy bolts work better, but do not travel as far.

Ten years ago, Arus had one of the most advanced technological civilizations in this quadrant. As the High Queen of Arus, speaking on behalf of the twelve, I offer you a trade. We will give you the secrets of Voltron and help you to decipher the schematics in return for your help. We have made this offer prior, and now beg you to accept.

In return, I ask you send trained personnel. Garrison has soldiers trained in everything from munitions to engineering and medicine. Send them. Send them with the supplies and the means to manufacture more. I will open our library to them.

As I know Earth looks for new planets to settle to relieve overcrowding, I offer to anyone who wishes to come grants of land to farm, to build business, to build manufacturing. The people must know the dangers of emigrating here. They will have to live in protected enclaves until the threat of Zarkon passes, but they will have, what your Earthlings call 'elbow-room.'

My planet cannot last much longer against Zarkon. Your people cannot last much longer. Lieutenants Stoker and Garrett have managed to keep the Lions functioning, but they worry how much longer they can, 'jury-rig' the repairs.

Admiral, you sent us hope, now I beg you, most humbly, send us help.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

I sit back and wipe the tears from my cheeks. With a deep breath, I send the message. Standing, I walk out of the room I use as an office and go toward the dormitory to check on the Force. When I had returned to Keith earlier with food, he could barely rouse himself enough to drink the Little Beer and eat a few bites of bread. When I handed him the pain pill, he looked at it for a long time, rolling it in his hand before finally swallowing it.

"Commander, I think you would be more comfortable in a bed."

His head had already fallen back against the chair, eyes already closing, drifting back into a fitful sleep. He only grunts at my comment. Chewing my lip for a moment, I try one more time. "Commander."

One of his eyes opens a crack. "S'ok. Can just stay here."

His eye closes again. Walking back to the door, and beckon in two of the men who had recently come back. They enter with a rolling chair. . .no, a _wheelchair_ , made by the Lieutenant McClain. He had only quirked his lip up when I asked what he made.

"It is for transporting the injured, my lady. When they cannot walk themselves."

I can only remember floating chairs from my childhood. It would never have occurred to me to put wheels on instead. So much technology lost that we took for granted.

"Commander? I have Kand and Gray here to help you back to your room. The medical staff gave me specific instructions. . . " I trail off as I realize the commander has already passed out again from exhaustion or pain or both. "Gentlemen? Can you help?"

Nodding, Kand speaks for both of them, "Aye, Princess. We will tuck him up like a chick under his mother's breast."

"You know to. . . "

Kand interrupts me, "Maybe not a doctor, Princess, but I and Gray been doing work with patients a long time. We will take good care of the Commander."

Nodding, I leave the room, letting them do what they had trained for a long time ago. They would move him to his room and his bed.

We just have so much to do and no resources. My stomach growls, and I go to find some dinner, because after all, I cannot help take care of those who protect our planet, if I do not take care of myself.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

Author's note!

Please allow me to clarify character ages, ranks, and distances.

Ages at time of arrival to Arus

2nd Lieutenant Lance Charles McClain, age 22

Ensign Darrell "Pidge" Stoker age 19

Ensign Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Garett age 25

2nd Lieutenant Sven Holgersson age 22

Lt. Commander Keith Kogane age 23

Princess Allura Morwain Fala age 19

Distances and travel

Worm holes compress the distance between Earth and Arus, but it still requires time to traverse. They must be set at the edge of Heliospheres or galaxies to work. Because. Garrison ships travel at the most at 0.08 speed of light. Few personal craft can go faster than this. To reach Arus from Earth:

Earth to the Heliosphere: 8.59 Days

First wormhole to Edge of Galaxy: 8.94 days

Travel between worm holes: 1 day

Travel through Large Magelannic Cloud: 5.01 days

Travel between worm holes: 1 day

Travel though Kolar Galaxy (my universe): 50.06 days

Travel between worm holes: 1 day

Travel from the Edge of the Denubian Galaxy to the Azure quadrant: 10.73 days

Travel between Worm Holes: 1 day

Travel from Edge of the Azure Quadrant to Diamond System Heliosphere: 2.68 days

Travel from Heliosphere to Arus: 14 days

Total travel time, if everything goes perfect: 104 days

Message travel times, at speed of light:

Earth to the Heliosphere: 16.6 hours

First wormhole to Edge of Galaxy: 77.1 hours

Travel between worm holes: 1.92 hours

Travel through Large Magelannic Cloud: 42.2 hours

Travel between worm holes: 1.92 hours

Travel though Kolar Galaxy (my universe): 432 hours

Travel between worm holes: 1.92 hours

Travel from the Edge of the Denubian Galaxy to the Azure quadrant: 92.57 hours

Travel between Worm Holes: 1.92 hours

Travel from Edge of the Azure Quadrant to Diamond System Heliosphere: 23.14 hours

Travel from Heliosphere to Arus: 27.7 hours

Total message travel time if nothing goes wrong: 720 hours

There are many, many if, and, and circumstances about communicating, but I am simplifying because although it fascinates me, I think it will drag down the story!


	3. Chapter 3

Froofy – I am really interested to see where I go from here too!

Feli – Thank you. I am humbled and thrilled at your words. I do enjoy the world and the characters, but find some stories lack the grit of real life. The world does start bleak – people in caves, in rags, without food, and then hope comes. Those stories, I think, define us as a species.

Smith – Back to skiing a bit, and back to five days of workouts. Just been cleared for more activity in my classes too!

Viewpoint Chapter 3

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

The four men grunt as they lever a large piece of debris onto a waiting dolly with a loud clang. I watch as two of them lean against the wall, wiping faces with dirt encrusted rags, leaving smears of dirt behind. I notice as Keith tries to surreptitiously hold his ribs as the dust in the air causes a round of coughing. He leans his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Lance leans close to mutter something to him in a low voice. The Commander shakes his head, and Lance says something else and Keith lets out a sigh that ends on a cough and nods his head. Lance pats him on the shoulder and turns back to the rest of the crew.

"Ok gentlemen; haul this bad boy out, and then call it a day. One gigantic chunk of unidentifiable melted rock and metal works for me today."

The men joke back and forth for a few minutes, while they catch their respective breaths, then Jock and Mattile activate the dolly to start moving it through the corridors to the slag area where others try and recover what materials they can from the debris. As soon as the men clear the area, I walk over to the newly uncovered door, hopeful it will open. The Commander remains leaning against the wall, breathing shallowly, holding his ribs. They will never heal at this rate. Of course, the Red Lion pilot does not look much better, although he claims the headaches have diminished greatly in the last month, I do not really believe him. I watch the pilots carefully, trying to make sure they eat and sleep and have worked with the rest of my people to take care of them. Not that it helps much. Zarkon has not launched a major attack, but they must have a fleet nearby enough to send harrying attacks. No one can predict when the attacks would occur. Sometimes at night, sometimes during the day, sometimes not for several days and sometimes several in one day. The force catches what sleep they can, but still, I see how lack of sleep has started wearing them down in their slow healing and slower reactions.

It does not help that we have so few people to try and do even minor repairs, not even considering finding anything in the destruction that might actually help. The slab the men removed blocked a corridor that used to lead to storage areas, if my memory serves. I pray that something remains intact, clothing and blankets would make so much difference now as the weather grows colder.

"Princess, I think we are ready for you." Lance motions me over. Keith still does not move, and I as walk closer, I see the pain lines radiating out from his pinched mouth.

"Commander," I start to say before he interrupts without opening his eyes or moving.

"I know, Princess. Jock and Mattile could not move it themselves and we just did not have anyone else to spare. I promise to go and have my ribs rewrapped and not do any more physical labor today."

"Or tomorrow."

He smiles and opens his eyes to look at me as I try to sound fierce and commanding. "No promises, Rabbit."

Lance laughs. "Well, you have graduated from Bunny."

I throw my hands up in the air letting out a mocking growl, which makes Lance laugh harder, and Keith's eyes dance. Smiling, I walk to the door, and attach the power source Darrell, I cannot bring myself to call him Pidge, gave me. The doors do not appear warped, so we hope my hand print and a bit of power will give us access. I carefully detach the panel, following the Green Pilot's instructions, leaving the hand reader intact. When the panel lights up, I take a breath and offer a fleeting prayer when I place my hand on the scanner. For ten long seconds nothing happens, then we hear a click. The doors open about twelve inches before we see sparks and they stop moving. Lance grabs a large chunk of rock to make sure the doors do not close again as we all let out a sigh of relief. No cheers yet until we see if all our efforts yield results.

The two men exchange a look, and I swear they have an entire conversation in five seconds. Lance grabs the longest pry-bar, turns himself sideways and uses the bar as leverage to start forcing the doors wider. They move, if not easily, then at least steadily until he has forced both doors nearly completely into the walls. Keith starts to pick up a large rock to block the door, but I grab it away from him with a glare. He puts his hands up, and I would swear his eyes twinkle with laughter. Lance bends over his knees, taking deep breaths.

"Damn, those doors are heav-vy!"

"Lance, language!"

"Fine, Commander, those doors are damn heavy!"

Keith just shakes his head and turns on a flashlight peering through the door into the long hallway lined with doors. "I hope those doors do not need power to function."

"No. Well, yes and no." I try to explain. "The doors originally opened electronically, but since these are some of the oldest storage areas, the doors have manual releases. Whether or not those releases still work," I shrug, "I guess we will find out."

Lance and I each pull out larger lanterns that will light up more of an area. Solar powered, so the charge will last for over a day. Keith walks down the hallway, peering at the doors. "It looks like these have labels. Princess, can you translate, please?"

"Of course, Keith." I wish he would go back to calling me Allura. Seems the only time he will converse with me more casually occurs when exhaustion or medication relaxes him. Walking down the hallway, I start reading aloud, "Keiner Day, Nursery, Storage. . ."

"Storage?"

"Shelves, boxes, that kind of thing."

"Ah, that makes sense."

I continue down the hallway, reading more signs which do not seem helpful. Costumes, paint, which may come in handy someday if it remained viable, but useless now, sports equipment. I am amazed at how much the castle collected over the years. I guess no one wanted to throw out what we might use someday. "Wait! Here! Winter gear!"

The men stop, looking for the manual release on the door. I hold my breath, hoping that something has survived. The two hold a whispered conversation, and Lance body checks Keith away from the door, then pushes it slowly open. As I shine my flashlight in, I see only torn boxes and opened chests. Closing my eyes to push away the tears, I see Lance enter the room. "Hey Princess, in the back, there are a bunch of unopened chests." I hear muttering. "Do you care much about the status of the chests? They are locked."

"Break the lock if you need to, the whole box. We can worry about that later."

"Ok." I hear some banging and muffled swearing and then Lance whoops. "Jackpot!"

I have no idea what Jackpot means, but by the tone of voice, it seems something good.

"Keith, can you ping Jock and Mattile and see if they would bring back the dolly?"

"Yes, but not from here."

Soon there are a dozen people arriving, helping to sort through this room and the four more we found with useful items. 'Old-fashioned' solar powered lanterns, camping gear, and a room full of electronic gadgets, outdated ten years ago, but now almost as valuable as the blankets and clothing we found. Best of all, we found medical equipment! I have no idea who put it down in the same room as the props for a play, but it will make an immense difference.

Keith tried to help with the sorting and lifting, but between Lance and I, we stopped him. The two of them left me to organize as they returned to the main area of habitation. Lance let me know he would force Keith to take a break and rest. I turn back to the task at hand, smiling at the bounty we find.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

I cuddle underneath a thick blanket, with a hot cup of what the Earthers have dubbed 'tea'. Both the blanket and the 'tea' leaves came from the bounty in the storage area. In the last week since we started sorting and finding useful items, the entire atmosphere of the castle changed. As the boys started searching out survivors and handing out supplies, a steady trickle of people started arriving. We even have a bona fide doctor again! Dr. Alain Gorma. Just thinking about his arrival makes me smile and giggle. He came through the caverns with seven other people, all laden with supplies and pulling carts or travois. When the word came that a doctor had come, I nearly flew down the stairs to the cavern entrance.

". . .few machines we could hide. Of course they need a power source."

Keith and Hunk stood in front of a tall, obviously undernourished, grey-haired man, with a few of the guards standing relaxed in the room.

"Power is a problem, but we have started making progress on that. Some old solar panels turned up, and I have started making an array. Only trouble is camouflaging so the Drules do not simply knock it out again." Keith laid a hand on Hunk to keep him from waxing on about the power problem.

"We can provide you with intermittent power and have already put our infirmary on the priority loop for power. Does that suffice?"

"Yes, Commander, I believe it does. If someone could show my people and I where to go, and if you would follow, Commander, I believe you could use some of my attention rather immediately."

"Thank you Doctor, however. . . "

My jaw nearly dropped as the doctor interrupted Keith.

"Did you accept my services as primary medical officer?"

A puzzled look appeared on Keith's face, "I did."

"Then, excepting in very few situations, when I deem a soldier, or anyone really, in need of medical assistance my word is law, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then, Commander, you will walk with me where I will examine you."

"I do not believe. . . "

"Shall I list why you need my services? That is a rhetorical question, by the way. You stand stiffly, holding yourself ready to protect, hmm, ribs I think. You have yet to draw a full breath. You have dark circles under your eyes indicating a lack of sleep, and pain lines radiating around your eyes and mouth. Based on the way your uniform sits, you have some kind of stabilization. Do you want to me to continue, or will you come with me?"

Hunk has started grinning at the doctors second sentence. By the forth his shoulder started shaking with suppressed laughter, and at the end laughed aloud. I did my best to look away, and control my facial expressions, but curled up here, I can let out my giggles at the commander's expression. Keith had stared at Dr. Gorma for what felt like hours, but probably no more than ten seconds before nodding his head slightly and motioning the doctor to follow. "This way, if you please."

I felt impressed that the doctor only nodded in return and gestured to his people to follow. I heard him ask some generic questions from the Black Pilot as they walked out of the room and down the hall.

I finish my tea and place it on the table next to my bed. I love the luxury of feeling warm and cozy in a bed with thick blankets. Morning will come early, but I feel hopeful and for the first time since the invasions began, begin the day with hope.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

This story departs from my normal style. Normally, I refuse to write in first person, but this appears to work. As always, any mistakes belong to me and believing I can do my own betas. If you see any egregious errors, please send a PM and if you see anything nifty, leave a review.

Have a thought you would like to see explored? Send a PM.

Thanks for following.

KM


	4. Chapter 4

Well, I know _where_ this story should go. How it arrives? No one knows. Welcome to my merry-go-round.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

I can hardly believe six months have passed since the arrival of the force. The short lull in attacks from Zarkon ended when a new commander arrived three weeks ago. I can only thank She and He Above that Dr. Gorma had some time to finally attend to some healing and enforced rest for the team. Our valiant Commander does not take well to enforced inactivity or what he perceives as idleness. It turned out in addition to the cracked and broken ribs we knew about, he had bruised his kidneys and had partially torn ligaments in his shoulder. Not that the other members of the force did not have similar injuries. Lance had downplayed his concussion, and Dr. Gorma had railed at him expounding on the stupidity of flyboys not seeking treatment when available and not admitting to injury. Darrell and Hunk received less of the tongue lashing because Hunk said, "Learn from someone else's errors to make your life easier." Darrel put it more simply, "Doc has big needles. And likes to use them. I am now making it one of my life's missions to never make him mad."

I admit to laughing as I accidentally listened to the one-sided conversations Keith and Lance had with the doctor interspersed with long put-upon sounding sighs. In the end, both submitted, rather unwillingly to whatever Dr. Gorma decreed. They did not have much choice in the resting after we discovered a Kolivar machine in the 'outdated' medical items in the storage areas. The doctor did not really explain to the force what the machine did ahead of time.

"Fuuuck. What the hell, Doc? What did you just do? It feels like I just went ten rounds with the current heavy weight champ?"

"Language, Lieutenant."

"You wait, _Commander_ , then tell me about my language."

"Although I am not sure what you mean by a 'heavy weight champ', I have not seen this kind of reaction from a Kolivar machine before. It would appear that your human physiology reacts differently. Perhaps if we find someone who specializes in medical technology we can have them adjust the machine, but I deem the accelerated healing effect to outweigh the negative effects. My scans show no lasting damage, but increased pain receptor response. I also show a spike in fatigue markers, and your calorie burn higher than expected." The doctor did not turn his head but continued to look at the screen in his hand. "Malia – please help the Lieutenant to a resting area and have the kitchens send up recipe number 6 as quickly as possible. I realize they may not have all the ingredient, but message them I trust whatever substitutions they need to make. Additionally, before I start the Commander's treatment, I would like recipe 13. Now Lieutenant, I need you to stay conscious long enough to drink the shake, as I expect you to pass out in about 30 of your Earth minutes."

"Dr Gorma." The Commander tried to interrupt.

"I will leave further instructions on eating and resting, which you will follow exactly. Do I make myself clear?"

Lance looked at the doctor, and I could see from my viewpoint his eyes had already started to lose focus. "Yep. Sure. Ya betcha', Doc. What you said. Anyone see the number of that bus?"

Dr. Gorma grabbed onto the Lieutenants arm as he started listing sideways. "Hmmm, I may have overestimated the time before you pass out. Malia tell the kitchens to step on it."

"Dr. Gorma." The commander tried again.

The Doctor waves a hand at him, "In a minute. Wils, come help the Lieutenant move."

"You bet, boss." Wils, one of the largest Arusians I have ever encountered, wrapped one arm around Lance, the other hand grasping his arm. I cover an inappropriate laugh as Wils hand makes Lance look like a doll. Lance looked up at Wils and blinked a few times.

"Wow. Who hit you with an enlargement spell?"

Wils laughed, "You should see my brother. He could stop a Targad with one hand."

Lance just looked at him in confusion, obviously trying to match the name to the correct creature.

"Kinda like a Rhino, Lance." The commander offered.

"Oh. Wow. Look, he has rainbows. Does this mean you are my own personal angel?" Lance closed one eye peering closely at something he saw around Wils.

"Not sure what an 'angel' is, but how about we set you up in a comfy bed with a delicious beverage?"

"Deal. Can there be dancing girls too?"

This time I could not help giggle. The Commander looked at me and rolled his eyes, not even bothering to say something as Lance continued to offer random observations in an increasingly slurred voice. Wils guided Lance to another room where he could recover.

Dr. Gorma continued to input data into his device, as the commander crooked his finger at me to come in the room. "Princess, did you need something before the very kindly old doctor decides to torture me?"

A snort comes from the doctor, who continues to work.

"Nothing urgent, Keith. Just following-up on the team to see your status. The long-range scanners do not pick anything up, and I thought you would like to know we seem to have a respite from attack."

Keith sent me a small smile, "Thank you, Princess." He looked back at Dr. Gorma, "Doctor, may I please now have an explanation?"

Gorma shrugged and sighed. "The Kolivar machine basically works by changing the instructions the body issues while healing. In laymans terms, it fast-forwards the healing process. The drawback is that it takes large amounts of energy to do so. Which is why sleep becomes compulsory for the body. The body only heals when resting, well that is a simplified explanation, but it will do. It also will take from the body's reserves, which, is a bit of a concern. I know you have been skipping meals, Commander, which is why you have been so slow to heal. The Princess tells me you have also fallen asleep every time you stop moving."

The Commander sent me a sideways look as Doctor Gorma continued talking, eyes narrowed, with a contemplative look on his face. I could not keep eye contact, and looked down at my linked hands instead, missing what the Doctor continued to explain to the. . . Keith. I tried to look after all the pilots equally, but could not help but find a special place for the Commander. Keith tended to keep himself not aloof, precisely, but did not interact with the rest of the staff and refugees the way Lance, Darrell, and Hunk did. Hunk, especially, worked; what phrase did he use, oh, in the trenches. He works to learn our technology and integrate it with his knowledge of Earth technology to repair, rebuild, replace, and generally invent what we need to survive. Darrell works on the software end of things to recreate and modify our systems to battle the Drules and to prevent any further infiltration. Hunk says Darrel's mind works faster than any three other people combined. I believe that. Most of the time when Darrel tries to explain things to me, I can understand the words he uses, but not in the order which he says them. Hunk always manages to translate into layman terms, but still much of it lies beyond any training I have. Diplomacy, languages, and survival does not translate well into technology.

Lance. . . well. Always has a way of making people smile. He flirts with all the women and half the men here. Although I have come to believe he does not mean half the things he says. Lance has the gift of making people laugh. We have had to little reason to laugh. He brings a lightness we have lacked for so long. Lance does not have the technical know-how of Darrel or Hunk, but he knows people and has an instinct for battle second only to Keith. His bond with Red runs deep and true.

Involuntarily I raise my hand to my lips as I contemplate the remaining member of the team. Keith. My people look to him before they look to Coran or myself for leadership. He gives everything of himself, and my people have risen to the challenge of the example he provides. He hides his pain and exhaustion, but I have learned to look for those signs; the small lines that radiate from his mouth, or a hitch in his breathing, or a small movement of his hand toward an injury.

I shake myself out of my reverie, tuning back into the conversation between the two men before me.

"Doctor, I cannot afford. . . "

"Then pick the site of your grave."

I watch as the two men stare in silence at each other. I bring a finger to my mouth and chew on a nail, as the silence continues. Should I break the silence or let in continue. Finally, Keith takes a breath and nods. Gorma gives a half smile in return, then stats issuing instructions. A kitchen helper arrives and hands the commander a large glass and a plate of something Darrell calls Pemmican. We do not have a specific name for it, but it developed as a travel food rich in calories and nourishment. It surprised me to see six of them on a plate.

"Because you have lost too much weight." I hear Doctor Gorma explain. "After seeing the reaction Lance had to the Kolivar machine, I have concerns about the energy requirements. The Lieutenant shows a healing rate nearly double of what I would expect from an Arusian, but a geometrically higher demand on calories. You show an even lower reserve threshold, and. . ." he paused and looked at me. Keith noticed his glance and nodded. "Understood." He looked at the bars and the drink and sighed before picking up the first bar and determinedly taking a large bite and chewing rapidly.

"Ok, Princess, before I pass out for a unknown period of time, what information do you need from me?"

For the next twenty minutes, he and I conferenced with Coran while he forced himself to eat everything the doctor had ordered. As I left room, I paused just outside the door, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Commander you understand,"

"It will hurt like a bitch."

"I do not have the ability to synthesize any medication that will not interfere with the process."

"I understand. Soonest started, soonest mended." I hear a long pause. "You best strap me down."

"Pardon?"

"I cannot trust my reflexes."

"Oh. Very well. Malia?"

I cannot listen anymore and flee down the hallway.

XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX XX

Thanks everyone for your patience. I will offer zero excuses, just an apology.

This story does have an outline-ish. Ok, I know the beginning, the ending, and most of the middle. Sometimes the middle takes a bit of a turn. Or a diagonal leap.


End file.
